


drunk off of nothing but each other ‘til the sun rise.

by lovesincerelyharry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, M/M, Reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 06:46:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovesincerelyharry/pseuds/lovesincerelyharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis doesn't want to sleep alone anymore, but Harry's always there.</p><p>Chose not to display archive warnings. Contains triggering material.</p><p>Also found at <a href="http://lovesincerelyharry.tumblr.com/">lovesincerelyharry</a> on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	drunk off of nothing but each other ‘til the sun rise.

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to know what is triggering about this work, please message me [here](http://lovesincerelyharry.tumblr.com/ask).
> 
> Based off "The Harold Song" by Kesha.

The thin stream of light resting perfectly on Louis’ eyes didn’t wake him up, no. The bustling noise outside didn’t jostle him a bit, not at all. It was the arm and leg of the tall, lanky boy next him touching his skin and setting his senses on fire that opened his eyes. Surely, right next to him, tangled up in each other was that familiar face, his mouth slightly open, hot air breathing out on Louis’ cheek every second or two. One arm laid across Louis’ chest, latched onto the tattooed arm behind his back. A right leg was strewn over Louis’ lower half, and the boy’s pelvis pressed perfectly against Louis’ hip. He was engulfed in everything that was Harry.

Louis felt perfectly at home.

The sun shifted in the sky, and that bright light was no longer in Louis’ face; it fell directly on Harry’s eyes, his eyelashes casting a shadow on his face. Louis knew that was it. Harry shifted a little, his leg travelling down Louis’ and his hand falling on Louis’ waist. Retreating from the sun, Harry tucked his face in Louis’ neck, those hot breaths now tickling Louis there. A smile overtook Louis, and his hand moved to massage Harry at the base of his spine. Harry convulsed at Louis’ touch, pushing himself even closer to the older boy.

“Mmm...” Harry’s moan reverberated off of Louis’ neck as Harry pressed himself against Louis’ side. Louis’ smile got even bigger.

“Good morning, what is that?” Louis couldn’t hold back a little laugh; he ran his hand up and down Harry’s back.

“Morning,” Harry whispered, his deep voice sending a shiver down Louis’ spine. He clasped his hands back together and tightened his grasp around Louis.

“Better hope that’s because it’s morning. It better be because I’ve barely touched you and already you’re sporting –”

“Louis…” Harry dragged out the second syllable and placed a sloppy kiss on Louis’ neck. His leg ran back up Louis’ lower half, finally resting on Louis’ pelvis. Slowly, Louis felt Harry soften. “What time is it?” Harry mumbled, Louis barely being able to make out the four simple words.

“Dunno, love, but does it matter? We’re off for almost five months. Time doesn’t matter.”

Harry sighed contently. “Forgot ‘bout that.”

Take Me Home Tour was over. The Australian leg was over. They were finally back home, the place they craved to be for so long. Niall flew straight to Ireland when the plane landed in London; he missed his nephew and his mother kept calling him again and again. Zayn drove back with Liam, saying he’d stop and meet up with Perrie and take Liam home. Louis took Harry home, hand-in-hand as Louis drove in and out of traffic, anxious to get back to their abandoned flat.

It was two mornings after, and Harry and Louis wanted nothing more than to stay in bed; and coo over each other; and place little kisses down each other’s chests; and never leave each other’s sides. However, the phone had other intentions.

“Kidding me, right?” Harry muttered, craning his neck and looking over Louis’ chest to the phone buzzing on the dresser across the room. Louis’ phone vibrated slowly over the wooden surface, mocking their peaceful thoughts and day plans.

Louis huffed audibly and moved to get up. Harry let go and flipped over, burying deep into the mattress and comforter. Louis treaded across the hardwood floor, the sound of flesh to wood floating in the room. He gripped the annoying phone and, at risk of missing the call, just answered.

“Hello,” Louis said, annoyance dripping out of his mouth.

“Hello, Louis! How are you?”

Louis froze. His heart dropped to his stomach and the phone threatened to fall from his hands. “Why the hell are you calling?” Acidic words tinged his lips; his jaw clenched.

Behind him, he heard movement on the bed. “Lou, who’s it?” Suddenly, arms wrapped around his waist and Harry kissed the back of his head. “Baby, who’s calling?”

Before the person on the other line had a chance to respond, Louis put the phone on speaker; Harry deserved to hear this.

“Wonderful way to start the morning. See you’re not in the best of moods.” Sarcasm tainted the man’s words.

Harry tightened his grip on Louis. “Why are you calling?” His voice was soft and timid, afraid of what the next sentence might be.

“Oh, hello, Harry; figured you two went home together.”

Louis couldn’t say the words fast enough. “Cut the bullshit, Richard; what do you want?”

He took in a deep breath and sighed on the other line. “Well, I know you’re not going to like this, but you and Eleanor –”

“No,” Louis cut him off. “Absolutely not. We just got back. I’m with Harry. No.”

“Won’t find a better time to do it. You just got back from Australia. You miss her. You go out with her. Find a nice club. Stay there for an hour or two. Come back around midnight. That’s it. Then, you can have all the time you want with Harry.”

“Not good enough,” Harry whispered, his grip slacking and his arms falling down to his sides. Louis spun around and watched Harry walk out of their bedroom and down the hall.

“How many more times is this gonna happen?” Louis snapped back to his manager, putting the phone back up to his ear. “You said that Eleanor and I would be over by the end of the year.”

The noise of Richard tapping his pen on his desk sounded in Louis’ ear. “It’s only November. You have probably two to three more dates with her. Then, slowly, you become disgruntled, upset. She is seen with possibly another man. Done and done, you’re free. But until then, you will go out with her, no matter what you or Harry wants. We are protecting you, Louis. We are protecting Harry. This is a very cruel world; you know that.”

Louis huffed. “I know, but I don’t see why I need a goddamn beard. I could’ve just said I was straight, done. That way, I wouldn’t have to go through this, and I sure as hell wouldn’t have had to put Harry through this.”

Richard laughed. “To the public eye, you aren’t seen as straight without Eleanor. You don’t want the hate.”

“But Harry gets it anyway.” Louis hung his head, defeated. “What time should I be ready?”

“Probably nine. We’ll drop off a car for you to pick Eleanor up in. Go to the club we tell you to. Dance, have fun, or, at least, try to, and then, leave.”

Louis’ jaw clenched again. “Are there gonna be paparazzi in the club?” His fingernails dug into his side, but he couldn’t feel the pain; he was only worried about Harry.

Richard cleared his throat. “The hope and aspiration is that there aren’t any. That way, you can just talk to Eleanor, dance a bit, try and make what you can of the –  experience. The only time you’ll have to play up your relationship is outside the club.”

Louis groaned and wiped his hand over his face. “Fine. Pick me up at nine. Goodbye.” Louis hung up and looked at the time on his phone: 16:00. He let out an exaggerated sigh and shuffled out of the room in his boxers.

Down the hall, Harry sat in the corner of the couch, curled up, gripping his legs. He starred at an insignificant spot on the carpet under the coffee table. His thoughts only surrounded one thing: Eleanor.

Eleanor this, Eleanor that, look at Eleanor, look how cute Eleanor is, look at what a role-model Eleanor is.

And the one sentence that ripped Harry in half:

Look at how perfect Louis and Eleanor are together.

The more he thought, the more is vision blurred, the spot looking further and further away with every passing picture and idea in his head. To him, this morning was perfect; Louis was perfect. He just wanted this day to be theirs, and now, Eleanor was back. In a way, though he was happy to be in their flat, Harry wanted to go back to Australia; Eleanor wasn’t there.

“Baby, you okay?”

Harry just groaned and fell sideways, sprawling out on the couch. His hands covered his face, and the tears started to fall.

“Harry – baby – please, I’m sorry; I really am. I cannot get out of this.” Louis sat down next to Harry on the couch, running his hand through Harry’s hair. “Please, understand that.”

Harry couldn’t take it anymore, he couldn’t handle the weight on his back, and he certainly couldn’t hold back the emotions taking over his body. The sobs came out choked and broken as his shoulders shook, and he wept into his hands. Immediately, he felt Louis’ presence kneeling on the floor next to him, his hands running frantically over his body.

“Harry, baby, don’t cry; please, don’t.” Louis ran his hands down Harry’s side, moving one to his face and trying to wipe away the tears. He wanted to make the situation better. “I never meant for this to happen, Harry; please know that.” As Harry choked back more tears, Louis’ heart broke; but Harry’s heart was already broken.

Harry struggled to breath and get the words out. “D-Do you still love me, Lou?”

Once Louis’ ears heard that sentence, his hands were immediately on Harry’s wrists, pulling his hands away from his face. Louis saw Harry’s tear-stained face and couldn’t believe that maybe, just maybe, he was causing this. “I love you, Harry. I love every part of you. You are the only person I want to spend the rest of forever with.” Louis leaned down. “Please, know that.” He pressed kisses over Harry’s face, listening intently to the quieting sobs.

Harry took in a deep breath. “Y-You don’t love her?”

Louis kissed Harry’s nose. “Of course not. She is an acquaintance that I have to be around. I don’t love her, and I will never love anyone as much as I love you.” He kissed his two cheeks, finally kissing Harry’s lips.

The only noise in the room was Harry’s breathing as he calmed himself down. No more sobs echoed in Louis’ ear, but just because he didn’t hear them didn’t mean they still wouldn’t haunt him in his sleep.

“W-When do you have to go?” Though his voice was timid, the pain that lingered behind it was fading.

Louis put his hands on Harry’s shoulders and sat him up. He joined Harry on the couch, running his hand through Harry’s curls and making sure to let Harry know that he was still there. “In about five hours.” As the newfound light from Harry’s eyes began to disappear again, Louis placed a kiss on Harry’s left cheek. “Plenty of time for us to do whatever you want.” He wiped the last tear off of Harry’s face.

Harry gave Louis a weak smile. “As long as I’m with you, I don’t care what we do.”

Next came a store-bought frozen pizza that Louis claimed he could make without burning. Then, snuggles on the couch with a kiss here and there while watching _Love Actually_ , a movie that, much to Harry’s joy, Louis could quote word-for-word now. With the taste of burnt crust on his tongue, Harry placed his head on Louis’ lap, sprawling out on the couch. Louis occasionally ran his hand through Harry’s hair, reminding himself of those days in X Factor when Harry’s curls drove Louis mad. Louis chuckled silently to himself as Harry drifted in and out of consciousness as the end of the movie neared.

After the end credits started and Harry did not wake up, Louis grabbed the remote, turned the television down, and put on something more his taste: Football. It was an old game that he recorded before the band left for Australia. Louis needed to watch it, and since Harry was asleep, Louis took advantage of it. He loved Harry’s heart, but sometimes, all of the questions put a damper on Louis’ mood when he watched football.

When it was nearly 20:00, Louis shut off the television and tried to move off the couch without Harry waking up. After he made it in their bedroom with some difficulty, he jumped in the shower and quickly dried his hair. In a matter of thirty minutes, he was dressed and ready to show his face with Eleanor.

He meticulously rolled up the sleeves of the sweater he had on as he walked into the living room to see a fully awake Harry watching the last part of the footie game. Louis leaned over the back of the couch and placed a kiss on Harry’s head.

“I’m starting to understand it a bit more, Lou; I get the concepts a little better.” His voice was deep with sleep.

Louis whispered in Harry’s ear. “That is wonderful, love. I’m glad.”

“But that does not mean you are taking me out to play football anytime soon; I’ve already embarrassed myself far too much.”

Louis chuckled. “You are precious when you play footie.” He kissed Harry’s cheek and walked around the couch. He picked up his phone and wallet off of the coffee table and turned around to a smiling Harry. “What?”

Harry’s eyes twinkled. “Nice sweater.”

Louis blushed. “I wanted you to be with me tonight. You don’t mind, right?”

Harry stood up. “Absolutely not. You look beautiful.” He wrapped his arms around Louis and breathed him in. “I’ll wait up for you.”

Louis pulled away and held Harry’s chin. “You don’t have to; I know you’ll be here when I get back.” He pressed a gentle kiss to Harry’s lips.

Harry shook his head. “I want to stay up. I can barely sleep without you near me.” Louis smirked. “Hey, I’m not kidding; this has gone way past dependency. I just plainly cannot live without you.”

A flood of emotions broke down Louis’ wall, and he pulled Harry into a burning kiss. His tongue threaded into Harry’s mouth, and his hands travelled down Harry’s broad back. The only thing his mind was thinking was Harry, and he couldn’t help the overwhelming desire to love this boy and take care of him and dote upon him. As Harry’s hands slid up Louis’ shirt, a knock on the door stopped everything.

“Fuck,” Louis groaned into Harry’s mouth. Harry disconnected from Louis, dropping his hands to his sides and pulling away. Louis shut his eyes in an attempt to dispel the anger; he turned around and walked to the door.

As he opened it, a familiar face stared at him. “Ready?” she said, her voice something to which Louis never got accustomed.

“Just give me a second.” Louis spun around and walked back over to Harry, still standing there, looking at the same spot from earlier. Louis picked up Harry’s head and smiled. “I love you, beautiful. I’ll be home as soon as I can. I love you so much.”

Harry blushed, but his dimples didn’t show. “I love you, too; come home soon.”

In the back of Harry’s mind, he knew that Louis would drink a little too much and dance with Eleanor as the night progressed, but as he looked in Louis’ eyes, he hoped everything would be okay.

He was right; Louis did drink too much.

The time was nearly midnight, and Louis approached the bar for another beer. Eleanor was somewhere across the bar, her hand probably threaded through a nameless man’s hair. Without someone by him to curb his thoughts, they swam in memories of Harry’s distraught face this afternoon, and he gulped his fifth beer with anger and frustration. He wanted nothing more than to be at this bar with Harry and dance on the floor with Harry; but life was cruel and life never played out perfectly.

As he slammed the bottle back on the bar top, a hand reached around his waist and a pair of lips pressed against his right ear. “Do you want to leave? I think you’ve had enough.” Her voice was turning into nails on a chalkboard.

Louis spun around and grabbed Eleanor’s wrist. “Do you know how hurt Harry is that I’m out here with you right now?”

She cocked her head to the side. “More incentive to leave.”

“Absolutely not. I’m too drunk right now; can’t let Harry see that.” Louis walked away from the bar and pulled Eleanor with him. “I think you should help me dance it off. It'll help us get rid of our frustration since neither of us want to be with the other.”

Eleanor followed behind him, pursing her lips in agreement. They ended up on the dancefloor, sticking to the edges but still feeling the heat. Louis slid his hands a little too far down Eleanor’s sides, and she leaned in a little too closely. The body heat on the dance floor had Louis regretting ever wearing Harry’s sweater, and one quick trip to the bathroom had him stripping the heavy piece of clothing. The white t-shirt underneath clung to him with sweat. He looked in the mirror and wiped away the perspiration on his forehead, ignoring the buzzing in his pocket from text messages he never read.

Louis headed back to the dancefloor, finding Eleanor still edging around the crowd. He managed to find a place between Eleanor and a stranger, but Eleanor’s attentions were somewhere else. His hips moved slightly to the music, but his eyes shut in fury. If only he was out – if only his image wasn’t this – maybe it wouldn’t hurt as badly.

In his pained thoughts, Louis briefly felt hands brush his hips. Quickly, he spun around, his footing off and his vision blurry; in the process, Harry’s sweater tumbled form his grasp. Standing before him was a man, nearly Harry’s height, with lust clouding his eyes. Every fiber of Louis’ being should have told him to turn and leave, but a part of Louis’ drunken brain pushed to the surface. He was to write his own destiny; he would force their management’s hand.

He stood up taller and pressed a quick kiss to the man’s lips. As if on cue, the man ran his hands down Louis’ sides and rested them firmly on his hips. Louis brought himself closer to the man, still kissing him. As he prepared himself to pull away, he reasoned that their lip-lock was long enough for someone to have noticed. A rumor would start – Louis Tomlinson kissing a man – and then their management would have no choice but to grant Louis, and even Harry, more freedom. The plan resonated in Louis’ head, his alcohol-driven thoughts believing it to be a good plan.

That was until he saw a camera light flash.

Louis pulled away immediately, his brain not quite catching up with the reflex. However, when another light flashed and captured his shocked expression, the scenario clicked together perfectly in his head.

_Harry will see._

Management never expected paparazzi to be in the club, and Louis most definitely didn’t. Photographic evidence wasn’t what Louis wanted; just a rumor, that’s all. However, as Paul raced to push the paparazzi out of the club, the finality of what Louis had done sunk in. By the time Eleanor grabbed Louis and pulled him out of the back exit, meeting Paul by the car, the photos were already online. And by the time Louis reached into his pocket to finally check his phone, Harry already saw the photos.

Louis and Eleanor stayed in the car, Paul having been instructed to stay behind the club until management crew showed up. Within a half an hour, hair and make-up and hired photographers showed up, and Louis had called Harry five times with absolutely no answer. Quickly, hair and make-up artists cleaned Louis and Eleanor up, changing his white shirt for something less sweaty. After an hour or so, Louis and Eleanor were instructed to leave the car, re-enter the club, and exit through the front.

After the tenth phone call and a countless number of texts later, Louis succumbed to the numbness and got out of the car with Eleanor. He followed her mindlessly, hand-in-hand as they cut through the club and left the building through the entrance. The photographers were there, hired by their management to clean up Louis’ image. Eleanor held Louis’ hand tightly and pulled him in for a kiss in front of the flashing lights. Louis aimlessly participated in the motions, his mind still cloudy with alcohol and Harry.

After nearly thirty minutes of damage control, they entered another vehicle and drove away from the club. Louis checked his phone again but was greeted with zero notifications from Harry. He could barely stomach it, but he gained the courage to check Twitter. The kissing photos were slowly being taken down by their management, a feat that was nearly impossible. Gifs surfaced from poor-quality videos, and posts existed with too many notes and retweets to count. By now, their management was grappling at nothing; everyone knew, and any thoughts of Louis’ being straight were tossed out.

In fifteen minutes, the sun was set to rise, and Louis was finally pulling up to his flat. His stomach was in a knot, and his heart pounded in his chest. The weight that Harry had on his shoulders earlier was now on Louis’, and he could barely breathe. His heavy legs carried him to the door, and with hesitation, he walked into the quiet living room, closing the door on the night behind him.

Sitting on the couch was the one thing that Louis dreaded to see. The room was dark, no light emitted except for the glow of Harry’s phone on his face. He sat silently, scrolling through pages and pages on the internet, not bothering to look up at Louis. As Louis took a step forward, he noticed the wet lines on Harry’s face from previous tears that fell. Once Louis was at the coffee table, the silence was unbearable.

“Harry, baby…” Louis whispered, reaching to place a hand on Harry’s shoulder. He flinched back and left Louis’ heart fractured. “Harry, please, don’t.” His voice was barely audible.

Slowly, Harry lifted up his head and looked at Louis. “What? What don’t you want me to do?” His voice was quiet, but the anger boiled through. “Do you want me to kiss another man? Do you want me to out myself completely? Do you want me to ruin everything we have tried to protect? Or is there something else I’m missing?”

“Harry, please, forgive me.” Louis stayed quiet. “I was drunk; I didn’t know what I was – I thought it was a smart idea, but I didn’t realize –”

Harry threw his phone on the coffee table, the noise of glass on glass shattering the silence. “Oh, you were drunk.” Harry stood up and walked around Louis. “Sorry, that’s always an acceptable reason to kiss and touch and grope” – he spun around – “another” – he glared – “man.” He tightened his jaw and clenched his fists. “Because, shit, when I’m drunk, I always kiss other men.”

A tear rolled down Louis’ cheek. “Harry, I just thought that Modest would have no choice but to have me come out. I see now that I fucked things up. I’m so sorry; I honestly don’t know what I was thinking.” His voice shook and threatened to crumble.

“So instead of waiting to come out with me, you chose the lips and hands of nameless man.” Two more tears fell from Harry’s eyes. He picked up his phone and turned away from Louis. As he walked to the door, he picked up his wallet on the way.

Louis choked on his words as he stumbled after Harry. “Wait, what are you – where are you going?” He grabbed Harry’s wrist, but he yanked it away.

“I can’t be here right now; I can’t even look at you.” Louis began to sob, stumbling over words that wouldn’t come out. “We fought for so much, put up with so much, and you just threw it all away in a drunken rage. I’m going over Nick’s; I can’t do this right now.”

“Harry, ple-ease.” A sob broke apart Louis’ words.

“I need time to think.” Harry looked down, opened the door, and walked out.

Louis couldn’t move; he couldn’t breathe. His legs were locked and his heart was shattered. His mind raced with thoughts of Harry’s broken heart. As his lungs threatened to stop working, all he could hear were his sobs and all he saw was the vision of making Harry his husband destroyed. Once the sun peaked up over the horizon, Louis realized he couldn’t lose that.

He willed his hand to open the door and his legs to carry him down the stairs. He willed his eyes to find Harry nearly fifty feet to the left of him, walking steadily down the sidewalk. That was when Louis started running, running after the only thing that held him to this planet, the only thing he lived for and the one thing he would die without.

“Harry!” Louis screamed, covering nearly half the distance. “Harry, stop, please!” Harry didn’t turn around, but Louis never stopped running.

“Baby, come back! I’m sorry; I fucked up! Please, come back home to me!” Louis reached out his arm to Harry nearly twenty feet away. Harry turned around in the intersection, and though his eyes were tearful, Louis saw forgiveness behind them.

When the car moving too quickly hit Harry, that forgiveness disappeared.

*****

The casket was white. The pallbearer handles were black with silver ties that connected to the casket. The inside cloths were pure white, and the metal box was specially built to hold his six foot one frame.

The red roses on the top contrasted with the white; it reminded Louis of blood, the blood on the road, Harry’s blood. Louis had to look away, turn up to the clouds in the sky, the clouds that threatened to shower the casket in rain. Louis hoped the rain would fall; maybe it would wash away the blood.

Louis felt Zayn’s arm around his waist and Liam’s hand on his shoulder and Niall’s arm around his neck, but all he felt was the gaping hole in his body. That hole was where the grenade shoved down his throat that went off, leaving him with an abyss where his stomach and lungs and heart should be.

Louis heard the quiet sobs coming from Anne and the gasps of breath from Gemma; but the noise that sounded over that was the crunch of bone on metal and the scream that came after, the cry of pain from his lips, when he fell to his knees on the sidewalk.

Louis noticed the eyes staring at him and the constant shuffling of body parts behind him as they stood there in silence. All he saw was the dark sky above him and the glossy white casket in front of him with the mangled boy inside with the curly, brown hair, styled specifically by Louis because “that’s how Harry would have wanted it.”

When the first raindrop fell on the top of the casket, Louis flinched. When the second landed on his hand, his skin crawled. When he noticed the third fall on the base of the casket and the fourth on one of the roses, the hole in his chest grew. Suddenly, his lungs weren’t so strong; and he needed Harry’s body beside him; and he wanted the rain to stop; and he wasn’t ready to let his baby go.

As he fell to the ground, his mother didn’t scream half as loudly as when Louis saw Harry die.

Now, instead of being outside, Louis was in bed, and instead of looking at the ominous sky, he was looking at the white ceiling that was not nearly as glossy at the casket. He heard the whispers down the hall of women and men, and he felt the emptiness in the bed and the tears down his face. Then, he heard his own cries, and before he knew it, he was sitting up and dry-heaving over the edge of the bed. When he felt the hand on his shoulder, he swore it was Harry’s, and when he looked up at Niall, his heart shattered.

“Harry…” he gasped, keeling over and heaving again. He coughed as Niall patted him on the back.

“Lou…” Liam walked into the room and sat down next to him. “Lou, come on.”

Louis gasped for air. “Don’t call me –” He sobbed. “Harry used to –” He collapsed over and folded in on himself. He gripped at the collar of his shirt, trying to hold something, anything, to keep him together. The one thing he needed was Harry, Harry’s hands and Harry’s arms and Harry’s touch and Harry’s love. But Harry was in the ground and would never hold Louis again.

“We have to do something,” Niall said as Louis’ hearing faded in and out. “He can’t stay like this.”

He heard Zayn’s voice. “It’s been five days since…” Louis gasped. “We can’t expect anything more from him.”

“This isn’t healthy.” Liam shifted on the bed. “We have to at least try to help him.”

New footsteps made their way into the room. Louis didn’t look up, but when those familiar hands rested on his arms, he groaned.

“Louis, baby, please, talk to us; say something, anything.” Jay’s voice echoed in Louis’ ears. He wanted to say something; he wanted to scream and yell and cry, but his voice wasn’t working. His throat constricted, and his lungs stopped working.

When someone with long, languid strides entered the room, Louis’ heartbeat picked up. His head jolted up, and his eyes focused on the doorframe. When he met those familiar eyes that belonged to Harry, his breath hitched and his body started to shake. Anne took a step towards Louis, and before he even realized what was happening, his arms were around Anne and his face was tucked in her neck. He grappled to hold onto the one thing that reminded him of Harry.

“Oh, Louis,” Anne choked out, kissing the side of his face, “don’t cry; please, don’t.” She held back a sob. “He loved you so much; he adored you.”

“I l-love him,” Louis cried, each word a struggle to say. “I n-need him. I can’t live w-without him.”

Anne ran her hand down his back. “I know, I know.”

Louis gasped for air. “I c-can’t do this.”

“It’s okay; we’re here, all of us.”

Louis couldn’t take it anymore, the burning anger inside of him, so he let it out and screamed. He let go of Anne and watched as everyone turned towards him with wide eyes and fear. “I cannot do this! Don’t you understand?” He looked up at Anne. “I kissed another man! I fucked up! And that is the last memory he will have of me! Looking at those fucking pictures on his phone!” Louis turned around to his band mates. “And if you really think giving me a pat on the back or a hug is going to help, you’re wrong! The only fucking person I want holding me is Harry! I want _his_ arms around me and _his_ voice in my ear and _his_ hands on my body! _Him_! Only _him_!” Louis turned around and bolted past Anne, leaving the crowded room and entering the living room. He slammed his hands on the back of the couch, pushing it into the coffee table and shattering the already broken glass.

“Louis!” Jay yelled as everyone followed her into the room. “Stop!”

Louis walked into the middle of the room. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” He grasped his hair and pulled. “Get out; get the fuck out! Everyone, fucking leave!” He spun around and got disoriented; his shoulders were heavy and his eyes filled up with tears. He was no longer spinning; the world was spiraling, and up became down. Louis fell on his knees, his body convulsing with sobs. He choked out his lover’s name before he felt arms picking him up. If he closed his eyes hard enough, he imagined it was Harry, and then, breathing wasn’t as difficult.

*****

The lights were too bright, and Louis squinted under their harsh glare. The bags under his eyes told his story, yet they were here to still explain it. He sat between Niall and Zayn, Liam next to him. Louis wrapped his arms around his middle, pinching his sides to stop the tears that threatened to fall. When the interviewer came in, his pinching became digging.

The woman gave them all a tight smile, but Louis didn’t return the gesture. Instead, he stared at a spot just beyond the interviewer’s head, focusing all of his energy there. The red light appeared on the camera, and the woman cleared his throat; Niall shifted, and Zayn threaded his arm behind Louis.

“Hello, Liam, Zayn, Louis, and Niall.”

Liam cleared his throat and said, “Hello, how are you?”

She grinned. “Decent, and how are the four of you?”

Niall shrugged, and Louis thought that was a sufficient answer; he met the interviewer’s eyes, and her grin faded.

“Louis, how are you?”

Zayn tightened his grip, and Liam coughed. Louis opened his mouth and forced the trained words out. “M’fine.”

“It’s been a month since the accident, hasn’t it?”

No matter how much he gripped his sides, no matter the pain he was inflicting, the tears in his eyes fell. Niall noticed and put his arm on Louis’ shoulders. “That’s right.” Louis barely said the second word before his voice cracked.

“And it’s been a month since you were spotted at that club?”

Louis shook and tried to destroy the images coming into his mind. The lights, the alcohol, the man’s hands over his body, Harry’s sweater lost on the floor, picked up a week later after it didn’t smell like Harry anymore.

Niall spoke up, “Enough about that, yeh?”

She nodded her head. “Sorry.” She paused, resetting herself. “What’s in store for One Direction?”

Louis twitched. “Nothing.”

The interviewer gasped. “What?”

“We’ve all talked about it.” Zayn said.

“Without him, we’re not a band.” Louis refused to blink in fear more tears would fall. “Without him, we’re nothing.” He blinked, and that was it.

They had to stop the interview; Louis would not stop crying. By the time they got him in the car, he dry-heaved on camera and broke skin where he was gripping his sides. Paul lifted him into the car, and he was instantly surrounded by Niall, Liam, and Zayn. By the time they made it back to the flat, Louis passed out in Zayn’s arms and Liam carried him to his bedroom, where he fell asleep without Harry’s arms around him again.

By morning, he was covered in a cold sweat, a panic attack taking over his body right before he opened his eyes. His hand landed on the space beside him, feeling around for Harry but finding nothing. Slowly, he sat up in bed and grabbed his phone on the bedside table; he checked the time: 8:00. As a precaution, he looked at his messages and calls to see if he had missed something last night. Then, he placed the phone gingerly on the bed in front of his crossed legs and bore holes through it.

Hearing the slight creaking of the bed, the three boys in the other room walked quietly into the bedroom, coming face-to-face with a wide-eyed Louis.

Zayn took a small step forward. “Louis, you okay?”

Louis’ eyes fell back on the phone. He ran his thumb over the screen. “Yeah, m’fine.” His voice was different.

Liam and Niall furrowed their eyebrows. “Mate,” Liam said, “what are you doing with your phone?”

Louis bit his lip. “I’m waiting for him to call.”

The three of them turned in towards each other. Niall spoke this time. “Louis, who’s gonna call?”

He let out a small, nervous chuckle. “It’s just that, he said he’d call me; he said that he needed time to think, to get away.” Louis looked up worriedly at them. “He has to call, right? He’s gonna come home to me, right?”

Liam’s eyes widened, Niall stopped breathing, and Zayn didn’t dare move. “Lou,” Zayn whispered, his voice barely reaching Louis’ ears, “Harry… Harry isn’t coming home.”

Louis laughed tightly. “But he has to come home. He won’t leave me; he would never do that. He must come home; he just has to.”

Liam held back the tear threatening to fall. “Louis, he isn’t coming home; he’s –”

“No; no, you’re wrong.” Louis let go of his phone and stood up. “He has to come home; you don’t understand.” He walked over to the closet – their closet – and reached in the pocket of one of his jackets. He ran his thumb over the red velvet encasing the small box. Louis looked back at each one of his friends. “You don’t understand. He has to come home to me again. He can’t leave me.” He opened the box and revealed a silver and gold engagement band. “I need to make him mine; I bought this six months ago, but I never had the chance to ask him. I want to make him my husband; I’ve wanted it for so long. He can’t leave me like this.” He slid his finger over the ring, a tear dropping on the little box. “I want to have babies with him. I want to grow old with him. I want to die in his arms.” Louis sniffed. “He has to come home to me. I need him. I need…”

Louis dropped the box, and the ring plinked across the hardwood floor, each bounce deafening to Louis’ ears. With each gasp for air, his vision blurred, the water welling up in his eyes, and with each heartbeat in his chest, the hole in his stomach grew. His eyes glanced over at his phone and the sheets and Harry’s pillow, and as quickly as his world seemed normal again, everything crashed down around him. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. He wanted to reach up inside himself and rip out all of his organs and destroy the burning sensation in his chest. As the floodgates broke and as the tears ran down his face and onto his shirt, his knees unlocked and he fell onto them, the small, red box before him. Louis prayed for Harry’s arms to engulf him and carry him to bed; and for Harry’s lips to kiss him up and down; and for Harry to tell him that he loved him and that he wanted to spend the rest of forever with him. Louis screamed because he knew that would never happen again.

*****

Six months. In six months, One Direction didn’t perform once. They didn’t do another interview. The articles finally stopped being printed. Louis still never went on twitter. Niall, Zayn, or Liam volunteered to stay with Louis each night, first sleeping with him, now sleeping on the couch. Louis went about with his normal routine, except without Harry. He made breakfast for himself and took a shower alone and sat on the couch without someone in his arms and cleaned the house in the quiet and went to bed without him. Each day, he did the same thing. For six months.

Zayn, Niall, and Liam gave Louis all the love they could manage, but for Louis, nothing was like Harry’s love. Nothing gave him the same high, the same warm feeling in his heart, the same strength to keep moving forward. Even though they hugged him and held him and kissed him, they could never give Louis the same joy. They could never give him those tender kisses in bed when the lights were off and Louis moved in Harry. They could never wake him up with the same soft kiss from Harry’s lips on his. They could never replace those big hands that held him while they watched _Titanic_ on the couch at two in the morning. They could never duplicate the light kisses on Louis’ neck that sent a shiver down his spine as he felt the light stubble of the beautiful boy he called his own.

Louis still kept Harry’s clothes in their closet and his unfinished book on the dresser. Louis didn’t throw away Harry’s shampoo and conditioner, and he kept his one pair of boots by the door. the one thing he moved that belonged to Harry was his brown journal. Scattered among shoes and bags in the back of the closet, Louis found it, thrown there after the tour ended. Now, every morning, after Louis kisses Harry’s engagement ring on his finger, he picks up the journal and opens to a random page. Though he read every entry at least twice, every day, it’s as if he never saw it before. With each day, the band on his finger and the words on those pages carry Louis through the day, whether he wants to be carried or not.

To say that he missed Harry would be an understatement. He craved Harry. He needed Harry. He wanted to have Harry by his side again. But Harry was gone. Six months ago, no one around Louis dared to say that sentence. Now, Louis repeatedly told it to himself. When he smiled at something on television and looked over to see Harry’s reaction, he muttered that sentence under his breath. When he heard the front door open, his heart raced, but when Harry didn’t walk in, he reminded himself that he was gone.

Unfortunately, not every day was as easy as saying that sentence. Some days, Louis drank at home and cried himself to sleep. Other days, he didn’t even make it to bed; one of the boys found Louis asleep in the hallway or on the floor in the bedroom. On Louis’ worst nights, he collapsed on the shower floor, the hot water and tears burning his skin.

Seconds became minutes, minutes hours, hours days, days weeks, weeks months, and time passed after Harry’s death. Louis knew it would, though he didn’t want it to. He wanted to go back to that day, change everything, and have his baby back in his arms. He drove himself crazy with “what if’s” and “maybe’s” and “could have been’s”. When he finally stopped thinking about those daily, he began cherishing every moment that he and Harry spent together because those three and a half years held the best moments in his life.

When the time finally came, when the four of them were together, when Louis was healed, the chatter beyond the tinted car doors sent nerves through Louis’ body. He heard the fans outside of the venue, the small little stage where the four boys would speak about Harry but not about One Direction. As Louis said previously, without Harry, they weren’t One Direction. Regardless of where their futures went career-wise, Louis didn’t care if he sang another day in his life. Without Harry harmonizing with him, he found no reason to sing.

With Zayn holding his right hand and his thumb brushing over the ring on his finger, Louis closed his eyes. Behind them, he saw Harry, smiling at him and telling him that he would be okay, that he would make it. Louis felt Harry’s arms around him, and suddenly the crowd didn’t matter anymore. The phrase, “he was gone,” didn’t echo in Louis’ head anymore. Because Harry wasn’t gone; he never left. He was standing right beside Louis, supporting him and carrying him. When the doors of the car opened, all five boys walked out, Harry’s arm wrapped around Louis.

**Author's Note:**

> Bookmark, leave kudos, comment.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading.


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